


Desire Followed the Glance, Pleasure Followed Desire

by willneverbeordinary



Series: Very, Very, Very [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV) RPF
Genre: (again squinty squint), (well if you squint), Breathplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, M/M, Madancy, Mads went and saw Hugh's performance in Venus in Fur, Mild S&M, do not shoot the messenger, it's not my fault what probably happend afterwards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 11:58:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5247440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willneverbeordinary/pseuds/willneverbeordinary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Without warning Mads lets go of Hugh’s legs, grabs his t-shirt and pulls, making him stand on his feet again. He manhandles him down against the smooth surface of the tabletop, face and chest pressed against it, and one hand twists his arm up on his back in a firm grip that sends spikes of pain into his shoulder and the other grabs the collar once more." </i>
</p><p>Hugh wears a collar - black and studded - during at least half of his performance of Venus in Fur. He still has it on when Mads meets up with him afterwards in his dressing room backstage. There wasn't a real thought behind it, he just hadn't changed clothes yet, but it was probably only a matter of time anyway before they were doomed to collide as they had so many times throughout the years, like their desire was objects in the hands of gravity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desire Followed the Glance, Pleasure Followed Desire

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a quote form "Venus in Furs" by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch. The story is about Hugh and Mads set at the time after Mads watched Hugh’s performance in David Ives’ adaptation, "Venus in Fur." The author of this story has made this up and all characters appearing are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner and any resembles to real persons (while intended, let's be honest) is purely coincidental.
> 
> (If you haven’t seen the play you can watch a audience recording [here.](https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B4xgJgvSZMazaGdXMDczVXJOOTQ/edit?pli=1))
> 
> To get a translation of the Danish dialogue just hover the sentence.

Mads looked at him with a slanted smile, eyes glinting playfully. “You’re still wearing that dog collar thing.”

Hugh reached up and touched his neck. “Oh. Right. Yeah, the buckle is tricky, it needs to not unlatch when Nina pulls on it.”

“She got it off easily,” Mads says, eying the thing.

“Yeah, well, she does it every performance. Puts it on before she goes onstage, whips it off to put it on me.” Hugh shrugs and shakes his head. “It’s not difficult, it’s just-“

Hugh makes a vague gesture and Mads’ grin widens.

“What? You like it on or something?”

“No, I didn’t say that!” He raises a finger. “I didn’t say-“

“It’s true?”

“That’s not. I did not say that, Mads!”

With a shake of his head Hugh drops his gaze. He scratches the back of his neck and looks up at Mads again to see his lips pressed together but the corners pulling upwards.

“Fine, you just laugh at me,” Hugh says, throwing his hands up but he’s smiling too despite trying to suppress it. He goes the two, three steps to close the door to his dressing room, shutting out the few people moving around backstage.

Mads shrugs. “No, I’m not laughing, I’d never laugh at you.”

“Liar.”

He doesn’t get a reply, only another tiny smirk.

“It’s good to see you, though.” He steps forward and gives Mads a hug, and as usual Mads pulls him in and holds him close, one hand at the back of his head and fingers threading through his hair. Something inside Hugh shifts, something that had apparently been out of alignment slides into place, and he allows himself to relax against Mads for just a moment.

“I’ve missed you,” Mads says and squeezes a little.

“Right.” Hugh gives a cough. “Yeah.”

“Your hair is a mess.”

Mads has pulled back a little but does not quite let go and he’s  running his hand through Hugh’s hair, if possible adding to the messy state it’s in before he smooths it down a little. When Mads grabs and gives a gentle tug Hugh takes a too sharp intake of air and he quickly gives another cough and clears his throat.

“Hair usually gets messy when someone tugs on it.”

Mads eyes finds his and Mads smiles at him.

“Really? That’s news to me!”

Hugh rolls his eyes at him. He pushes at Mads’ arm but Mads only goes with the motion without taking his hand out of Hugh’s hair and Hugh gives a small huff but leaves it for the moment.

“I think they are even having a bet on how crazy she can make it look. It’s not like I can really do anything about it without messing up the performance.”

Mads laughs. “That’s not much of a bet, then. She can totally fuck it up and you can’t do anything. Anyone who says it will look fucking crazy wins. How do they decide a winner?”

“Why else would she exaggerate so much?”

“Because she likes playing with your hair?”

“Oh, haha.” Hugh tries to push Mads away again but once again Mads doesn’t let go, he just shifts a bit.

“Who wouldn’t like playing with it!” Mads makes another gentle tug.

Hugh huffs yet again and frowns at him. “Would you stop that.”

“But it’s shorter now. It was easier when it was longer. Before that TV show cut if off, right? It’s gotten quite long again after they shaved it. I miss your curls.”

“Oh, yes. The Big C, yes. Yeah, they gave me buzz cut. I suppose it works better for the play to have it shorter as well. I have to look at least somewhat like I could be the man in charge. I couldn’t very well look like- like I do with long hair, then.”

“Like a very pretty boy?” Mads says, having leaned in close, his cheek against Hugh’s and his breath tickling Hugh’s ear.

It’s affectionate in a way that’s familiar yet seems to belong in a memory, of a time maybe four or so years ago. Hugh squirms. He’s aware of his t-shirt is sticking to him, Venus in Fur isn’t the most physically demanding play but moving around a lot in a warm coat underneath the lights, it gets hot, and the fabric clings to his skin and his hair must still be damp. He tries as before to put a bit of distance between them but Mads’ hand stubbornly refuses to leave Hugh’s hair and the other pressed against his shoulder.

Hugh stops his shifting and sighs. “I suppose, yeah.”

“Because you are,” Mads says, his voice low and soft.

The light brush of Mads’ lips against his jaw, right below his ear, could almost be Hugh’s imagination, as feather light as it is, but he feels it like a burn as his heart does a double beat. He breathes in slowly and out even slower yet there’s this annoying little tremble to it. He listens to Mads’ breathing, the uneven rhythm and the shallow inhales and shaky exhales. The hand that was clutching his shoulder moves slowly to press between his shoulder blades, traveling slowly to come to rest at the small of his back.

When Mads tugs at Hugh’s hair Hugh makes a small noise.

Quickly he pushes away, takes a few steps and grabs the table behind him with one hand and scratches his hair with the other. He glances at Mads in the mirror, glances at the door as if he expects someone to come knocking just then and saying he should get a move on, maybe Nina is going to drop by any second asking if he’s changed and if he’s ready to head out and have a beer and celebrate a good performance. He turns slowly to face Mads again and leans against the table. He offers a smile, an uncertain thing that feels like he should rather be frowning than trying to smile.  

“So, um. You-. It’s-.” He lets his hands rummage around as he speaks, searching and throws a look over his shoulder and grasps his wedding ring. He slips it on as he starts over; “Did you enjoy the play?”

Mads just looks at him. He had put his hands in his pockets and now he leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest instead. Hugh frowns but Mads gives a smile and Hugh feels himself relax.

“Yeah, I did.” Mads nods at him. He looks down for a moment and then lifts his gaze and looks at Hugh though his lashes, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes. “It was very clever.”

“Right!” Hugh bounces of the table and paces a bit. “It’s not just sex. I mean it is sexy but that’s missing the point! That’s not why I took on the part!”

“Oh?” Mads lifts his head and tilts it somewhat. “You didn’t secretly want to be a pornstar?”

“Really?” Hugh laughs, quirking an eyebrow. “No. No, that wasn’t why I took the role. I wanted-“

“Who are you?” Mads interrupts, hands back in the front pockets of his pants.

Hugh stops moving about and furrows his brow at Mads. “Sorry?”

“I meant in the play. Are you like Thomas or that Vanda girl he writes about. Or Venus? Or that Chomsky guy?”

“Kushemski,” Hugh says immediately and then he makes a face.

“A bit Thomas, I would say,” Mads tells him with a smirk.

Hugh nods a few times, throwing his hands out. “Alright, yes. Guilty.”

Mads pushes off from the wall and takes a step closer, still smiling. “Secretly evil?”

Hugh looks away, shakes his head and smiles as well. “Guilty, probably.”

“A lot of guilt,” Mads says and Hugh can’t really work out if it’s a statement or a question.

He frowns again and catches his bottom lip between his teeth. He scratches his arm and looks at Mads, then at the floor. He looks at the door again. No one has come looking yet. Maybe it hasn’t been as long as he thought since he went off stage. He looks at Mads again and though Hugh is frowning Mads is still gently smiling. Hugh attempts to smooth his features out and pull his lips up into a smile of his own.

“Who would you be?”

“Oh,” Mads says, his smile turned into a huge grin. “Venus, of course.”

“A goddess?” Hugh quirks an eyebrow at him again.

Mads gives a shrug, palms up. “If I can be voted sexiest man in Denmark six times I think I could do a goddess of love, no?”

“You should not try to ‘do’ a goddess or she’ll get really angry, didn’t you watch the play at all?”

It’s Mads turn to frown and Hugh snickers at him. “Do? As in have sex with?”

“Oh!”

“Language problem?”

Mads ducks his head and looks up at Hugh with a small smile. “Sometimes I don’t really know what I’m saying.”

“Most of the time I have no idea what you’re saying either.” Hugh shakes his head and huffs a laugh. He picks up a towel and rubs his hair but the sweat seems to have mostly dried in. With a small sigh he tosses it away at a pile of other dirty garments.

“You really think I’m a bit like Thomas?” Hugh says, crossing his arms and leaning against the table again.

“Maybe?”

“Am I really that pedantic and insufferable?” Hugh pulls his eyebrows together and spreads his hands before placing them on the tabletop, fingers curling over the edge.

Mads gives a hint of a smirk. “Maybe?”

“Oh, come on!”

Mads laughs at him. “And you are still wearing the collar.”

“I’m still wear-“ He brings his hand up again and brushes it over the leather and studs. “You kind of forget you have it one after a while. I’ve actually accidentally left with it on, one time.”

“One time?” Mads raises an eyebrow at him.

Hugh rolls his eyes and nods his head. “Okay, maybe more than one time.”

Mads snorts a laugh at him. “Please, don’t take it off for my sake.”

There’s a pause. Hugh can feel his own thoughts crunching inside his skull and the subtle change in the atmosphere of the room. His heart does that painful double beat again, a second little thud that swells almost painfully against his ribs. He licks his lip and shifts his weight slightly.

“Should I keep it on for your sake, maybe?”

Mads looks at him, holds his gaze. When he answers he speaks slowly, his voice slightly hushed as he says a ‘maybe.’ Hugh nods just as slowly and pushes off from the table, moving with measured steps across the small room until he is standing in front of Mads. Close. Not touching. But close enough for the warmth of their bodies to weave together in the fraction of space left between them, close enough to feel the proximity as low hum of energy just beneath the skin. He looks at Mads, takes in the sight of him. How is lips parted just a fraction once Hugh got close, how his eyes have become lidded, how his gaze flits between fixing on Hugh’s mouth and on the collar still around his neck.

“Go on,” Hugh says and Mads meets his gaze then but he doesn’t move so Hugh repeats himself and he brings his own hands to Mads’ hips, digging his fingers in just a little. When he works his thumbs underneath the hem of Mads’ pants he suddenly moves.

One hand quickly finds its way into Hugh’s hair, tugging a hushed moan from him, and the other grabs the collar and twists it tighter around his neck. It presses against his throat and it’s a blood choke that leaves his airway free but puts a pressure in his skull and he worries for a moment about the risk of passing out.

“Oh,” he breathes out, testing his voice, testing his air supply. He looks at Mads through half-closed eyes.

“You like that?” Mads asks, tugging Hugh’s hair more firmly and Hugh makes another noise.

Hugh just breathes in response. He tries to give a nod but it’s cut short by Mads’ firm grip.

“You?” he says and his voice trembles more than usually and he closes his eyes and draws a sharp breath through his nose that he releases on a shaky exhale. His pulse is drumming a frantic beat, caught helplessly between  _want to_ and  _shouldn’t._

“I like what it does to you.”

Mads starts to shifts closer but then spins them around instead, shifting places, and pushes Hugh against the wall, dislodging his grip. Mads presses up against him and one hand is still twisting the collar but the other is gripping his jaw, thumb pressed to his bottom lip. Hugh presses back against Mads but it decreases the pressure of the collar and so he leans back more against the wall again. Another moan finds it way past his lips at the pressure increases.

“Careful, you don’t wanna pass out, ok,” Mads tells him and lets up a little and his thumb leaves Hugh’s lip.

Hugh snorts at him. “And you would know?”

“Actually, I would.”

Hugh doesn’t say anything he just smiles at Mads and makes a motion as to shake his head though he can’t move it quite so freely. His hands find Mads’ hips again and he tugs him closer still. He feels his body heat and some of the weight of him as he leans against Hugh. He also feels the outline of his cock and shifts to push his thigh between Mads’ legs.

“I want to,” he says in a low voice. He shifts against Mads and Mads does a sharp intake of air and presses more firmly against him again. His thumbs find warm skin and strokes over the slight jut of hips, painting desire in bold colours. “I want to.”

“Yeah,” Mads breathes. He lets go of the collar in favor of fisting his hand in Hugh’s hair again.

“It’s just. This.” Hugh brings a hand up and runs his thumb over his own wedding ring.

“I know,” Mads says on an exhale, his breathing still an erratic mess.

“It was bad enough what I did when we first got to know each other. That you and Hanne are still married-,” Hugh trails off and contorts his face. The memories are still laced with guilt and pain. “She’s always been much kinder to us than we deserve.”

Mads nods, eyes still half-closed, and presses his lips to Hugh’s neck and his words come out muffled and damp against it. “Talk to Clarie, right.”

“I can’t make the same mistake.”

“You’re not. You’re making a new one.”

“Exactly. Because now I’m married. All she knows is that I had some crush on you. She doesn’t know about the two years.”

“You should talk to her,” Mads says with his lips sliding against Hugh’s skin and Hugh gives a groan.

“Yes, I will.”

"Lover du?”

Hugh sucks in a breath and holds it, closes his eyes to the sensation of Mads’ mouth on his jaw and both his hands now tugging at Hugh’s hair and Mads has to repeats himself before Hugh responds.

“I promise.”

“Because I have to touch you, when I see you, I have to. "Det er helt umuligt for mig at holde mig væk fra deg. Forstår du? Va? Forstår du det?"

He breathes out a shaky ’yes’ and tilts his head to the side, exposing his throat to eager lips and he gasps at the touch of teeth to his pulse point. His hands comes up to grab the lapels of Mads’ shirt and he pulls, his eyes fluttering open, and Mads lifts his head and looks at Hugh with lidded eyes, pressing his tounge to his bottom lip. With another wrecked ‘yes’ Hugh presses his lips to Mads’. He hears the sharp intake of air from the other man, the short, low pitched moan he gives. Feels the touch of tongue and opens up to it. Hugh shifts against him again, pressing his leg more firmly between Mads’ and Mads presses up against it with a twitch of his hips. 

Mads says then, eyes shut tight and lips caught in an angry snarl before taking a breath, shaking his head and adding “Til helvede med det."

Mads grabs Hugh’s shoulders then and spins them around again, walking him backwards until he hits the table none too gently. Rough hands grab a hold of his thighs and pulls and Mads hoists him up onto the tabletop and pulls Hugh’s legs around his hips before slamming forward with a grunt, pressing hard and urgent against Hugh. Hugh tips his head back and moans around the ‘yes, yes’ that tumbles from his mouth. His hands come together behind Mads’ neck and he pulls him in for another kiss and when the man begins to thrust – lips pulled back in a snarl, eyes closed and bit off, short grunts with every forceful thrust of his hips – he feels that familiar fire. Every noise is a rolling flame licking a trail from the wild beat of his heart through his belly to coil low. Every breath tastes warm and every touch ignites, he can feel it like a brand on his skin. Jaw slack, back arched and lips wet and parted around a litany of ‘oh, oh, oh God yes’ he fucks back against Mads’ rough thrusts.

Without warning Mads lets go of Hugh’s legs, grabs his t-shirt and pulls, making him stand on his feet again. He manhandles him down against the smooth surface of the tabletop, face and chest pressed against it, and one hand twists his arm up on his back in a firm grip that sends spikes of pain into his shoulder and the other grabs the collar once more.

Hugh feels the press of Mads’ hard cock against his ass through their clothes and the constant pressure of the collar pulled tight around his neck.

“Oh,  _God_.” He chokes it out. He presses back against the searing sensations of Mads hard and insistent against him. “Please. _Please_.”

His lungs claw for air between the tightness of the collar and Mads weight pressing down on him as he drapes himself over Hugh’s back. He does feel the guilt ink black against a sea of sweltering red inside and the weight of a lie slowly taking shape, a physical thing, like lead. He has already decided he isn’t going to tell her.

Then all of it just stops abruptly.

“I don’t want to do this like this again. But God help me, I will.” Mads voice is strained, there are threads of pain lacing through and moulding it. “Please, talk to her.”

Hugh blinks. He frowns. “What?”

“Talk to Clarie.”

Mads has let go of the collar and Hugh takes a few deep breaths. “I can’t.”

“Call her.”

Air rushes into his lungs with an ease that’s startling when Mads pulls away. A phone is pressed into Hugh’s hand. He stares at it. He looks at Mads through the reflection in the mirror. He selects his wife’s number.

“What am I to say?” He straightens his back, rubs his hand across his face. “What am I to tell her?”

“About this. The truth.”

Hugh laughs. It feels like broken glass in his mouth. “Oh, just explain how damn badly I want you to fuck me again?”

Mads glares at him and his lip twitches in a silent snarl.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. You know she’s pregnant, though. I can’t just-“

His shoulders sag and he hangs his head and curls in on himself. Then he is wrapped up in a tight embrace and he clings to Mads, hiding his face against his chest.

“We are going to be stupid. It’s better if we tell her, she should know.” Mads says. His voice is soft, the kind of gentle that causes pain.

“There’s nothing to tell, nothing actually happened.”

Mads makes a disgruntled noise. “It was something. Something that was happening. It’s gonna happen again. Du får mig til at gøre dumme ting.”

His skin feels like it’s too tight all of a sudden and his insides twists and crawl. He’s still achingly hard and he bites his teeth together enough to make his jaw hurt.

“You weren’t going to tell were you?” Mads asks him with just a barely noticeable tremor to his voice and holds on so tightly to Hugh.

“No, I wasn’t.”

Mads leans his cheek against the top of Hugh’s head and hold on just a bit tighter still. “You met her and fell in love and you wanted that normal life instead of what we had, right.”

“I wanted you.” Whatever had fit so perfectly not too long ago seems to have rattled out of place again and with sharp angles and rough corners it grates inside and little by little it scratches his heart raw until he has to blink against the tears gathering in his eyes.

“You had me,” Mads says against Hugh’s hair.

“It didn’t feel like it.”

“I know.”

With a sigh Hugh untangles himself. “I  _do_  love her. I’m making the call.”

The phone is heavy in his hand and it takes him a long time to unlock it and get Clarie’s number on the screen. It takes even longer to press dial. Once he does there’s the distinct feeling of falling from a height and he closes his eyes and swallows. It rings out and it takes a few agonizing seconds before she picks up.

Hugh begins to pace as he talks to her.

He stops and looks at Mads who’s worrying his bottom lip with his sharp teeth and watching him with wide eyes. He says ‘I love you’ into the microphone as he looks into light brown eyes. He ends the call.

“So?” Mads licks his lips, gaze flitting around. “Are you two good? And I can kiss you? Because I think I will have to kiss you.”

Hugh just stares at his phone. He swallows. “Apparently. Apparently my wife is  _not_  leaving me. She, well, she thought monogamy would be a fun challenge but. I don’t even know, she said it’s not much fun. She’s ready to explore her polyamorus side? Essentially, well, I think we have her blessing.”

“I have no idea what you are babbling about, right, but you and I are okay, then?” Mads bites his lip and pushes his hands into his pockets.

Hugh lets out a laugh. It starts somewhere deep inside his chest and tumbles out and it dispels the guilt that had been lodge behind his ribs and he feels light, almost dizzy. Mads just frowns at him so with another laugh Hugh walks over to him and pulls his hands free and squeezes them.

“Yeah. We are. We’re okay. It’s okay.” He gives a grin and this time he gets one in return.

“You broke it off once before, though.” Mads says but he’s still smiling.

“I did, yeah.” Hugh gives a huff.

“When you met her we were being just friends and you wanted it to be like that. So I respected that, yeah? But it’s very difficult when your friend kisses you.” Mads says, drawing out the ‘very.’

Mads is giving him a playful smile and Hugh gives another little laugh in response. “I’ve been careful about not letting myself get into situations with you where I might do that. Worked rather well. Until tonight.”

“So. Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes.”

Hugh lets go of Mads hands and they come up to frame his face gently and Mads leans in and presses a closed mouthed kiss to Hugh’s lips that’s more smile pressed against smile than an actual kiss. Hugh wraps his arms around Mads’ waist and kisses him in turn with a bit less giddiness and a bit more heat.

“And will you fuck me now?” Mads murmurs, his lips still quirked but his eyes lidded.

Hugh squeezes his eyes shut and draws a sharp breath that he lets out along with a trembling ‘yes.’

“Good,” Mads says with his lips once more against Hugh’s neck and a hand finding its way down to palm Hugh’s cock through his pants.

Hugh arches into the touch. His fingers almost shakes has he grabs Mads’ other hand and places it on the collar. Mads tugs at the damn thing and Hugh keens. His own breaths come shaky and uneven and Mads’ comes hot and damp against Hugh’s neck as Hugh fumbles to unbutton Mads’ shirt. The shirt is tossed to the floor, Hugh’s pants are unzipped and Hugh works to unbuckle the stubborn damn belt Mads is wearing. They stumble into the table and Mads’ leans against it, pulling Hugh close by the collar, fitting their mouths together and kisses him with hungry, little noises. Everything has fallen into place. His heart that had felt skinned into a glossy ruby beats strong and wild and  _happy_ because Mads’ lips moves so perfectly against his, the exploring hands and each finger pressing into Hugh’s skin, like Mads’ is making a map or picking out familiar constellations, fits against every inch they touch and every cut-off gasp Hugh gets to taste, hear, feel, is, in that moment, made just for him.

When Mads’ hand dips inside Hugh’s underwear and strokes his cock, Hugh moans and claw at Mads’ shoulders. His underwear gets pushed out of the way and Hugh watches as Mads’ hand moves in slow, firm stokes. He parts his lips against breathy gasp, his hips twitching and rocking.

“ _God_ , I would like to fuck you,” Hugh gasps and pushes up into Mads’ firm grip. 

“Yeah?” Mads’ response is breathy and he says it as he bites his bottom lip. The hand that was resting against Hugh’s throat curls around the collar and twists it.

“Bend you over this ugly, damn table and fuck you.” He presses closer and adds, “You could watch in the mirror.”

A grin flits across Hugh’s face as a Mads’ eyes fall shut and deep moan escapes him. The hand around his cock gives a squeeze and Hugh buckles and curses and fucks into the tight ring of fingers wantonly. He’s too warm with his clothes still on and aching to have it all at once. He wants to kiss, slow and unhurried and touch and rock together and come when they are all tangled up in each other’s embrace. He wants to hold on. He wants to feel the warmth and weight and shape of Mads’ body against his. But all of it can wait because he has him right there with him.

“Lift your shirt up,” Mads urges, “out of the way. Now.”

Almost one finger at a time Hugh removes his hands from where they had been clutching Mads’ hips and wraps them around the edge of his t-shirt. He pulls slowly, looking down through half-closed eyes where his cock pushes into the circle of fingers, and breathes raggedly and open mouthed.

“Like that,” Mads says, voice low, words cut short by a bit-off grunt, “don’t take it off, hold it up.”

Hugh’s thighs have begun to tremor and he closes his eyes. He feels the two points where they connect, all of reality focused around the rough hand he’s fucking into with abandon and the other which is twisted tightly into his collar. His head is pounding and his pulse whistles in his ears. Small, desperate noises tumble from his lips like little sounds of worship.

“You’re so good for me.” Mads reigns him in closer, pulls Hugh’s head down until he presses his face at the junction of Mads’ neck and shoulder and gasps against his skin. “So good.”

He feels dizzy, collar tight around his throat and hand tight around his cock, and he breathes in the scent of Mads, presses his mouth to the flushed skin and tasting a hint of salt. He’s begging now, he knows, breaths it out hushed and involuntarily against the thrumming pulse in Mads’ neck.  

Mads’ voice is a hot exhale by his ear. “I want you to come all over yourself for me.”

It’s not an instant thing, though the words send a surge of liquid heat through his belly. It takes a few more desperate thrusts, it takes Mads’ breathing hotly, close to his ear, until he feels his orgasm rush over him. He feels it in his entire body, everything ignites, and it’s almost a shockwave of electricity, before it pulls into a single point and he comes messily over his own stomach, managing little more than a light ‘oh’ that trembles out on an exhale. The pressure around his neck draws the moment out. A conflict between pleasure and trying to amend the restricted blood flow to his brain. He’s on a plateau until Mads’ releases him and pulls him close. Hugh goes easily with a last, weak moan as his cock twitches.

He starts to pull away but Mads’ hold onto him, mumbling against his cheek. “Bliv her. I want you close.”  

Hugh stays.

With a disgruntled noise from Mads’ he gets to take his t-shirt off and throw it on the pile and slide off and kick his pants away. And then he pushes close. Threads his fingers through Mads’ hair, presses his lips to Mads’ jaw, neck, shoulder. Bites down gently. His hands finds bare thighs, pants pooled on the floor, and he strokes and with his thumbs he traces invincible dots made only for him and unveils outlines and shapes of desire. He smiles at Mads’ hand at the nape of his neck, finger grasping his hair. Mads holds onto him as he comes over both of their stomachs and Hugh clings to him in turn.

Slowly their breathing evens out.

Mads’ pull Hugh completely into his arms, his messy hand smearing their release on Hugh’s lower back and Hugh makes a face. He pushes between Mads’ legs anyway, as close as he can get and tucks his head against Mads’ chest. Mads’ rests his chin on top of Hugh’s head. Hugh can feel his own heart still thudding strong and a little fast in his chest and he can feel Mads’ as a sound inside his own head, reverberating and carried from Mads’ to him.

“Jeg elsker dig,” Mads says with his clean hand at the back of Hugh’s head, holding gently.

Hugh lets out a breathy sound of a laugh. “Yeah. I love you too.”

“We don’t need to feel guilty anymore.” There’s an unmistakable happy note in Mads’ voice.

“No more guilt,” Hugh says as he wiggles his hand between their chests and splays it over Mads’ now steadily beating heart.


End file.
